


Down the Rabbit Hole

by Erbs



Series: The Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion [Gavin900 semi-related oneshots] [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Asphyxiation, BDSM (mentioned), Choking, Drug Investigation, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Nines is awkward, Sub Drop, Tina and Gavin are BroTP, gavin reed is gay, mental health, sub!gavin, this turned out more angsty than intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 09:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15969782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erbs/pseuds/Erbs
Summary: "I swear to god, tin can, if you tell me how I have to live my life one more time, you can peel the bullets one by one from your blue guts!"Gavin just tries to clear his head and gets pulled into a special investigation instead.





	Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this together with my good friend Caro, pls follow her on twitter, she is a good egg: @canislvpvslvpvs
> 
> This was beta-read by @NinesOnMain and @Leuchtezeug, feel free to follow them as well.
> 
> If you still find any mistakes, please feed them to the Roomba.
> 
> Enjoy ^^

It was one of _those_ days again.

 

"I swear to god, asshole, if you tell me how to live my life _one more time_ you’ll have to pull the bullets one by one from your blue guts!"

 

"I don't worry about your empty threats, you wouldn't be able to hit anything critical anyway." RK900 sounded... pissed. Almost. Somehow.

 

Gavin would love to pride himself, saying he'd been getting better at reading what was going on behind the cold façade the android always puts on, but truth was: He was just as clueless as he was when Connor's " _brother_ " arrived at the precinct a month ago. Markus apparently freed him, so the walking statue should technically be a deviant, but Gavin had his doubts about that.

 

It had been a shitty day in a shitty week in a shitty month since he'd been figuratively handcuffed to his new _partner_ by the Captain, and 900 listing off every ingredient in the donut he had been enjoying was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

 

He narrowed his eyes, snarled, got close to RK- trying to look intimidating even though the android was more than a head taller than him- and hissed.

 

" _Listen, dipshit_ , I don't _need_ to hit anything critical in your stupid plastic ass, and you know why? Because _nothing_ in there is valuable, _nothing_ in there is valid or unique, _everything_ is just worthless and _replaceable_ , you're just a fucking walking farce made of parts someone found in a dumpster and that is exactly where you're gonna end up when I-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before a cool hand closed hard around his throat and he was slammed into the wall with enough force to make all the air leave his lungs in a constrained huff.

RK900's face was close, his anger showing only in the blood red light at his temple and the microexpressions on his face; slightly narrowed eyes, tight jaw, and the upper lip curled into a faint impression of a disgusted snarl.

 

Gavin knew sixteen ways to get out of a chokehold, and probably four of them could work against RKs superhuman strength.

 

But something... something was off. Something was weird. Different. The android said nothing. Just stared at him.

 

And things went southward from there, because Gavin noticed the thing that had put him off from the moment his back hit the wall.

 

His eyes widened in surprise when, instead of aiming to crush his windpipe, Gavin noticed RK was expertly executing a _breath control_ grip.

 

Gavin had been both a cop and a submissive long enough to know the exact difference between a real chokehold and breath play.

 

There was no doubt in his deduction: RK900 was _playing_ with him.

Like a feline with its prey.

 

The anger in Gavin's head turned into shock, turned into confusion, turned into a whole lot of chaos, because the realization that RK was not trying to kill him, but was instead trying to assert _dominance_ was seriously fucking with his mind. Logic mixed with anger and lingering subspace, and his feet barely touched the ground, 900 fingers locked perfectly behind his jawbone.

_He needed to get back in control._

Of the situation. Of himself.

"What, that's all you got, trash can? Pathetic," Gavin forced out, a derisive grin on his face. RKs eyes narrowed even further and he pressed his thumb down on Gavin's carotid artery, just enough to make him feel it, just enough to take his pulse, and Gavin lost the ability to breathe.

 

Four ways to get out of this chokehold, technically three 'cause he still didn’t have firm ground under his feet. But the question was, would they work?

 

A growing part of him didn't want them to work, and he snarled- both at RK and himself- before gasping for air as the pressure receded just a bit. He felt dizzy, lightheaded due to the constricted blood flow, bringing not enough oxygen to his brain, which was already confused anyhow.

 

"I wouldn't advise such a behavior, Detective. Not in your position." 900's voice sounded cold and unbothered, as if he just performed a basic task instead of breath-playing with his fucking colleague.

 "Eat shit and let me go, or I'm gonna report you for assault of an officer," Gavin growled. The words lacked their intended bite due to the rasp of his abused throat, and RK didn't even flinch.

 

"So do it. Your extraordinary hatred for androids makes your claim so much more believable." He let go and Gavin sagged to his feet with a huff.

 

Then RK turned around and left for his desk without any other comment or reaction. It felt like a victory and a loss at the same time.

Gavin tried to hide his little coughs as he moved his hand over his neck and let his eyes follow after RK.

 

"Fucking asshole," he murmured, rubbing his throat. He would have bruises tomorrow. Maybe even as early as tonight.

 He looked around, but luckily nobody seemed to care about their fights anymore.

It told a lot about how often they argued. Fowler wouldn't make a drama out of it, after all he was the one setting Reed up with RK900 in the first place. The Captain sure as hell had expected this.

 

There was just something about the android that made Gavin _want_ to piss him off. Maybe his perfect stoic face that never seemed to show any hint of emotion, so every little outbreak felt like a victory. Even if his throat had to suffer for it.

He rubbed it thoughtfully while sitting down at his own desk. It was like he could still feel the smooth, strong fingers curl around his throat. The android's hand seemed to have the exact right size and shape.

 

Fuck, how did the bastard even _know_ BDSM grips? Did all robots come with this type of programming?

He had never met Kamski, but from what he overheard Anderson say in the break room, that seemed like the sort of thing Kamski would do. Fucking rich pervert.

_Or had he let anything slip?_

Gavin has never been secretive about his kinks, but RK900, the _android_ , knowing about his sex life felt... weird. The walking piece of plastic already invaded his work life, his private one was not his to know about.

 

Gavin decided to bury himself in work for the rest of the day, trying to forget the incident, but his good memory was giving him a particularly hard time.

Whatever he tried to distract himself with, he could still feel the burning impression of RK900's hand around his throat. He didn't even know why his brain kept coming back to it.

 

_Bullshit_.

 

He knew exactly why, and it pissed him off. How dare that plastic ass sneak into his thoughts like that?

 

He probably didn't even have an ass. Perfect electronic asshole.

_Shit, why was his job making it so hard to go out?_

Not that he's mad about the promotion, but sometimes he felt like things were easier when he was just an officer.

As soon as he has a day off, he needed to get laid somewhere by someone. Someone _human_.

 

 

\--------

 

 

The task force was tracking a Red Ice trafficking ring.

One of the biggest and most important criminal organisations in town. Everybody at the station was following the case updates like scores in football game by now as the investigation went on and on for weeks and kept weighing hard on the minds of everyone involved.

For weeks, they seemed to have been trailing hot on their heels, always just a step behind and yet walking in circles. New leads were rare, the contacts inside scared, and evidence almost impossible to find.

The suspected leader of it all, a man named John Fitzgerald, had been slipping through their fingers like an eel multiple times already, impossible to blame for anything without actual hard evidence.

 

Hoping to get a grip on the guy, Officer Chen - Gavin's former partner, respective leader of the task force, and also what came closest to a best friend for Gavin - had already called Anderson into consultation. His days at Tina's position may have been quite some time ago, but even Gavin had to admit the Lieutenant did a brilliant job back in his day, busting loads of drug dealers before "graduating" to homicide.

 

It didn’t really explain why _Gavin_ of all people was now called into consultation too.

 

Just about a week after he and RK900 were handed over the case Hank and Connor were previously working on, they were told to pass it one down the line as well, as the whole station seemed to focus all its reserves on busting this drug ring.

Gavin didn't quite understand his involvation. There were people vastly more qualified for this case, detectives more experienced with addicts and the way they thought than him, who'd been doing homicide for most of his career. Hell, even _RK900_ would probably be better suited, with all his fancy analysis-shit and whatnot.

 

That he thought, until he got passed over the new details in the consulting office.

 

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I wish I was, Reed."

 

One of their moles had tipped them off. Supposedly, there was a deal happening at 22:30 at a private party downtown in a club called "Dragon's Lair.” Smuggling in a cop to keep an eye on the suspect and witness the deal would not be the hardest to do.

 

There was only one problem.

 

_"You've_ **_got_ ** _to be kidding me."_

 "Please, Reed, we need someone who knows how to safely navigate the territory without getting suspicious or distracted."

  _"And of course you immediately thought of me"_

 "You're the only one in the station!"

 

The "Dragon's Lair" was a fetish club.

They were investigating a fetish club.

They were calling him in to investigate a fetish club.

Because he knew how to _navigate the territory._

_Jesus Christ._

 

He slowly rubbed his face, letting out a long breath, feeling the familiar nubs and ridges years of in-field duty had left on his face, trying to ground himself. Anything could happen behind those doors, and he knew that.

 

_Maybe this is not so bad,_ a little voice in the back of his head tried to tell him.

 

Gavin took another deep breath, before he lifted his head again and found everyone looking at him expectantly.

 

_The things you do for the greater good._

 

He huffed. " _Fine._ I'll go in."

 

 

\------

 

 

Rain was hitting the windshield and roof of the car in an almost hypnotizing rhythm while RK900 and the rest of the precautionary backup waited for Detective Reed's news just a block from the club. He found the raindrops nice to concentrate on while Officer Chen next to him was reading a comic book.

 

22:30 came.

 

22:30 passed.

 

Gavin didn't respond until 23:04.

 

RK900's LED whirled yellow with the incoming text message:

 

**_[REED; 23:04]:_ ** _He's not our guy._

 

RK900 frowned - he slowly got used to showing his emotions on his face - and texted back:

 

**_[23:04]:_ ** _How do you know?_

 

**_[REED; 23:05]:_ ** _Later._

 

RK900 looked over to Officer Chen as he told her what Detective Reed just transferred.

 

"Idiot. He’s probably just having fun in there,” she huffed, not taking her eyes off the comic. It took another additional 24 minutes and 16 seconds from the receival of the last message to Detective Reed knockin on the side window of the car.

 

RK900 unlocked it, and with a sudden splatter of ambient noise - rain, wind, traffic, accelerated breathing, the noise of wet clothes squeaking over the seat material - the Detective slid into the backseat.

He turned around in the drivers seat to face him and gave him a quick scan while Officer Chen closed her comic book and stuffed it away.

The Detective's face was flushed, breath and heart rate higher than normal. He probably ran all the way from the club to the car in the stupendous belief that he would be less wet in the process - not a very solid belief, proven by the sheer amount of water Reed was drenched in.

 

"He's not our guy", Reed panted while laying his head back and resting his arms on the backrests of the backseat. He seemed strangely relaxed, despite having another trail end in thin air.

"How do you know,” RK900 repeated verbally.

“I'm telling you: either the tip was a farce, somebody snitched, or he's a dead end. No deal happened between him and anyone else."

"And you are sure he didn't slip your gaze around that time,” Officer Chen asked. There was something in her tone that was not quite knowing and not quite teasing. Searching for... confirmation?

 

Gavin rolled his eyes:

"I _am_ sure, because at 9:19 he was fucking me over a wood bock, and we didn't finish until 9:48. I think I would have _noticed_ if he slipped away."

RK900 looked at him in puzzlement. "You engaged in sexual contact with a suspect?"

 

Gavin shrugged and crossed his arms, nestling his head into the backrest and closing his eyes "Yeah, so what? He was hot, and this way I could make sure to keep an eye on him."

While Officer Chen didn't even seem surprised, RK900 felt seriously confused.

 "Still, maybe he could've reached over to someone?"

 

Gavin scoffed: "He didn’t have a hand free, but you’re just gonna have to trust me on that because I am under _no circumstance_ showing you the horse whip marks. Now, start driving, I'm fucking soaked and need to get out of this fucking harness."

 

Officer Chen snickered "You're so fucking disgusting, Gavin."

Detective Reed laughed and gave her the finger. "Ey, no kinkshaming in this car."

"You once used one of my vibrators as a cat toy, I'm allowed to kinkshame you all I want!"

 

Detective Reed only laughed again as an answer, and RK900 felt strangely out of place. There was no bite behind the insults they were throwing, it was more like familiar banter, teasing among friends, but even on this scale Reed was behaving exceptionally unusual. For the first time since RK900 met him, he seemed calm and content, was even laughing and smiling, only bickering without the actual intention to hurt.

 

Even though he did not understand it, RK900 liked the change.

 

 

\------

 

 

Having his whole workplace know about his sex life was, admittedly, not the best situation Gavin had ever been in.

Not the worst either, but there were a lot of circumstances preferable to the constant

pseudo-inconspicuous stares and the pats on the back for _bringing forward the investigation_ , despite said investigation having not moved on an inch despite his literal full body use.

 

The worst thing about it wasn't the spreading knowledge about "Reed fucked a suspect" or "Reed is into some freaky shit," though.

 

No, the worst thing was how he couldn't help but make it so _blatantly obvious_.

 

It felt like all the stress and repressed anger that had been building over the course of the week was suddenly lifted off his shoulders, every knot in his body and mind untwisted in the relief of _finally_ having gotten a good play session, being able to let go and relax into the sweet oblivion of someone else making the choices. It was a bit shocking to notice in hindsight just how much his body and mind seemed to have needed it.

 

And he wasn’t the only one that noticed, of course.

 

He was friendlier, more efficient, calmer. He even got Hank a coffee when the Lieutenant jokingly asked him to do it.

 

"Wow. If I'd known you only needed a good pounding to become a decent human being, I'd arranged it earlier,” Anderson teased, but not even that could make him snap like he would usually have done. His mood was too good. So instead he just shot back a "Fuck you too, Hank" that contained no real bite, and returned to his work.

 

 

Getting laid by someone human out of opportunity had been a great experience, even though it made things a little awkward in the precinct until his colleagues found something new to gossip about.

 

Much to Gavin's disappointment, it didn't get rid of the initial issue though.

 

He still found himself lusting after the overgrown tamagotchi at the desk opposite him, his head unsolicitedly replaying the choking incident time and time again, and he was growing rather annoyed with himself.

 

This was why he normally didn't do event hookups.

Sure, he had a good time, but overall it was just a short distraction, and, even worse, made him realize that the thing he’d been trying to escape didn’t just originate in him simply being horrendously underfucked.

 

In other words: Gavin had a problem.

 

 

\---

 

 

"So somebody snitched,” Anderson grunted. "Dammit."

 Tina nodded, her hands on the table while she studied the case files on it.

"Somebody found out our inside man was a mole, the information was spread, and the deal was cancelled before it happened. Our people are currently working on getting our contact out before he gets lynched."

"Shit. That means our suspect-" "Is still not off the table, correct."

 

 

\-----

 

 

They stumbled in the dark for some time.

Gavin and Nines were still on their status of consulting the task force, but while the main members were trying to make some progress, he and his plastic partner went back to the case they previously had to dismiss.

 

About another two weeks later, Gavin entered an unusually busy precinct for the time of day, that was buzzing with energy like a bees nest. A quick dive into the station gossip told him the news: The task force had made a breakthrough and a fresh hot lead had brought them back on track.

Apparently they had learned that the ring favoured fetish clubs and similar frivolous establishments for their Red Ice deals, exactly because they were inconspicuous and often highly anonymous, and outsiders immediately stood out or weren't even let inside in the first place.

 

Gavin had no fucking clue _how_ , but apparently Tina, Anderson and her people had figured out a pattern and got enough evidence now to plan to bust the next deal to avoid any further errors. The entire bullpen seemed to be caught in suspense upon the possible closure of this exciting case that had cost them roughly five months of nerves now.

 

"CHEN! ANDERSON! OTHER CONSULTING HEADS OF THE TASK FORCE! IN MY OFFICE!"

 

 

\------

 

 

It would be a lie to say Gavin hadn't expected this.

 

As soon as he learned about the fetish thing, he knew for sure he was going to be asked to go undercover again. Despite his impulsive reputation, he had thought thoroughly about it.

It was risky.

_Highly_ risky.

Knowing now that during the time of the first mission, the criminals were already aware that there was an infiltration planned, they were probably extra careful around new faces.

Gavin knew the risk of being recognized. He went under anyway.

 

 

It would also be a lie to say Gavin hadn't also expected _this_ , to a certain extend.

 

Nevertheless, he felt sick to his stomach as he sat against the cold bricks of the outside of the club, knees pulled to his chest, while sirens drowned out his hearing and flashing blue police lights hulled the scene in an otherworldly light.

 

 

The mission, despite small complications, had been a full success.

 

From the moment Gavin entered the club, he had felt John Fitzgerald's eyes on him. The man had recognized him in an instant, but, to be fair, Gavin had to give him that because he didn't really have the most generic face.

Just a few minutes in it was clear that Fitzgerald wanted him again. Gavin played into it. After all, he had enough self esteem to know he was a good lay, and he had to admit that, aside from his crime record, the man knew what he was doing.

 

The whole time they were flirting, they had been watched. Gavin didn't necessarily have a problem with that, just the knowledge that these were criminals watching him, trying to find out if he was what he was - a cop - made him uneasy. He had been hyperaware of the little earpiece he wore and the microphone he had hid between the buckles of his harness the whole time.

 

Being watched had fucked with his plans of not actually getting involved in a scene this time, so to keep his demeanor upright, he let himself be "seduced" again. To his advantage, kneeling in front of Fitzgerald had given him the perfect view of the deal happening right beside them, under the watchful eyes of the dom himself.

 

Gavin had been able to seamlessly slip in the codewords for the taskforce - _"Harder daddy",_ Anderson's stupid choice, but luckily indeed something he would _never_ say in a scene - without notice.

 

By the time the task force stormed the building, Gavin had been fighting hard to not slip into subspace.

 

It was hard not let himself fully go.

 

He had failed just instances before the police came crashing in and was forced to snap out of it when Tina Chen, now self-proclaimed "Rescuer of Reeds,” caught the hand that was about to slap him just moments before it hit his face.

 

He would never tell her that seeing her standing there so suddenly, bringing an abrupt end to the scene, actually felt like someone had pulled the rug under his feet. Only that this rug was the only thing covering the big black hole beneath him, and without this security blanket he was sent falling and falling and falling... and there was nobody to catch him.

 

Putting handcuffs around the wrists of the man that had him obediently on his knees just moments before was a strange sensation. Gavin focused on the temporary triumph of having made Detroit a lot more drug and crime free for now, trying to keep it together just a little longer. 

He brushed off congratulating handshakes, awkward pats on the back as well as superficial questions about his wellbeing, and made his way outside.

 

His breath clouded in the cold December air, and Gavin shivered beneath the T-Shirt he had quickly pulled over. He could suddenly feel every metal part of his harness against his bare skin, and he had the urge to just claw it off.

 

 

While the building got secured and searched by his colleagues, the rest of the criminals arrested, he sat there, back against the wall, knees pulled up to stop himself from shaking. The chilly air helped him focus.

 

Soon enough, there were footsteps - well paced, shoes crunching on the gravel, yet awfully silent - and two well-known boots made it into his field of sight.

 

"Are you alright, Detective?"

 

Gavin glanced up, along the long slim legs and the uniformed body up into RK900's face.

 

_"Do I look okay,”_ he snarled, before averting his gaze. RK cocked his head ever so slightly. The LED blinked. _Great, he was being scanned._ Just awesome.

When the android spoke again, something that could or could not be called concern was in his voice:

 "Detective Reed, my analysis shows that you seem to experience a chemical imbalance commonly known as ' _sub drop_ ’.”

 

"No shit, Sherlock."

 

The android actually looked taken aback by his harsh response, which was a first. But Gavin couldn't help it, he had all walls up and currently just wanted to curl up in a ball and not speak to anyone. He felt physically and mentally exhausted.

 

"I'd like you to stand up, Detective,” RK900 started. Gavin didn't even glance up this time: _"Fuck off, plastic bag."_

 

"It's 39° Fahrenheit. You're going to get cold. You might get sick. You shouldn't sit on the ground."

 

Gavin looked up again and for once, there was no anger in his gaze. Just exhaustion.

"Orders are the least I need now, idiot. Just leave me alone. Please."

 

RK900 stood still, looking at him, LED blinking yellow before returning to blue. He hesitated for an almost unnoticeable moment, then started taking off his jacket.

 

"What's that supposed to be,” Gavin asked, watching the scenario unfold.

 

"My sources tell me that soft blankets are a commonly used object in aftercare. This is the closest to a blanket I can currently provide,” 900 answered. Gavin wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was sure he was gaping.

 

_Getting aftercare from an android. Fucking Christ._

 

"I still recommend you to stand up though, Detective."

 

Gavin muttered something unaudible and scrambled to his feet, where he was met with RK throwing the jacket around his shoulders. The fabric felt hard and worn, but at least it was warm. The gesture was strangely intimate, and the question _"What do you even care?"_ remained unspoken on Gavin's tongue.

 

RK900 scanned him again, his LED blinking a bit unsteadily before he looked over to Detective Reed's car.

"There's no need for you here anymore."

"I know."

"Then why don't you leave? It would be beneficial for both your health and your psyche."

Gavin shrugged and looked to the side. He felt like he'd been dragged behind a truck and then left in the dirt.

 RK nodded, like Gavin's silence had been a full answer.

 "I understand. You're lacking motivation. A sub drop often comes with depressive symptoms, due to your body's lack of endorphins and other hormones. Drinking something sweet would help to both hydrate you and help your body recalibrate."

"I doubt there's coke among all the dubious fluids in your body."

"You're right. But there's something else I could do."

"Yeah? What's that?"

 

Suddenly, RKs arms wrapped around him. Gavin froze.

RK didn't move. He just stood, still like a statue.

"What- what are you doing?", Gavin choked out.

"I'm hugging you."

"...No, you're not"

"Yes I am. I am providing gentle physical contact with the intention of comforting you and making you feel safe."

Gavin sighed: "That's not what I meant. You're... you're doing it wrong."

RK900 moved away. "I don't understand."

 

Gavin took a step back and put on RK's jacket properly, arms actually in the sleeves, to distract himself from the situation. It was too big for him, the stiff fabric forming almost a box shape around him.

 

"You feel like a fuckin' statue. Be less stiff and relax a little more. Move into it. Ya know. Uh." He took a deep breath and shivered at the cold breeze that waved through the alley.

 

Fuck, what was he doing? His emotions must be _really_ tilted, he just hugged a fucking android.

 

"Understood, Detective. Shall we try again?"

 

Gavin shook his head.

 "I'm gonna go home. I just need a shower, my cat and a lot of junk food."

 "Do you think you're capable of driving? I would assist you, it's no problem, Detective.”

"I think I'm still capable of fucking _driving_ , trash bag."

"Understood. I just wanted to make sure you get home safely."

 "Well _thanks_ ,” Gavin hissed, and at this point he didn't even know why he put all this venom in the tone. His best guess was that it was a cognitive reflex, having suffered emotional trauma and now trying to prevent further trauma by pushing potential threats away.

 

RK stepped aside, polite as usual, and Gavin moved past him. Halfway to his car, he stopped under a streetlight, unsure if to keep the jacket or to return it. He settled on taking it off, when RK spoke behind him: "Keep it. I have a spare."

  _"Jesus fucking Christ, stop sneaking up on me like that!"_

 "I am installed with a natural stealth mode, so suspects don't hear me coming." It sounded like he was smirking.

  _"Can't you turn that off or something?"_

RK tilted his head "I'm sorry, I don't think that's possible."

Gavin rubbed his face, trying to conceal the blush from the scare " _Ugh, whatever._ See your bitchface tomorrow."

"I don't think that's a good idea, considering your mental state."

"I don't need your advice, dipshit."

"I have already messaged Captain Fowler, and he agreed to give you two days off, considering your great efforts and success in this mission."

 

Gavin stared at him, then groaned and turned around. _"You're unbelievable_.”

 

"Have a nice weekend, Detective.”

 

" _Don't_ expect me to thank you," he called while walking away.

 

 

\---

 

 

At home, Gavin methodically stripped himself of every leather part on his body, threw all of it in a bag, and then took a long, hot shower.

 

He ordered his favourite takeout, and ate it on the couch, watching his favourite movie, with his cat curled up in his lap. Trying to do some selfcare the best he could.

 

He ended up retreating into his bed anyway, hours earlier than his usual schedule, pulling the covers close around his body in a weak reminiscence of the embrace he actually needed.

 

_"You got yourself into this mess, Reed,"_ he muttered to himself "You knew you probably had to skip aftercare, you know you're prone to dropping, you did it anyway. Now fucking take it like a man."

 

Sleep didn't find him for a very long time.

 

 

\---

 

 

**_[TIN CAN; 07:00]:_ ** _Good morning Detective. I hope you had a good night and are feeling better now. I am glad to inform you you are not missing much at the station. Enjoy your day off._

 

Gavin stared at his phone dumbfounded.

He read the message again, and then again just to be sure.

 

Never had he gotten a message like that from the android. Sure, their texting was sparse, but it existed, though almost entirely work-related. Having 900 suddenly ask for his wellbeing... that was a first.

 

It almost sounded like smalltalk. They _never_ made smalltalk.

 

Gavin read the message yet again, gnawing on his lip. The only logical conclusion, drawn from RK's behaviour yesterday evening, would be that that the android googled more about aftercare and found doms checking on their subs the next day, if negotiated, on the list. Still, that didn't explain why on earth the damn thing would care, and why in the universe it would see itself as Gavin's _dom_ , of all people.

 

Then again, the bot _did_ choke him against the wall a week ago when he was acting up.

 

Did RK now really care or did he just follow another set of rules he found and assigned to himself?

Gavin sighed and rubbed his face. He shouldn't think that early in the morning. If it wasn't for the damn cat, he wouldn't even be on his feet now.

 

"Yeah yeah, I'm gonna feed you, you annoying fleabag. Jesus, have some patience. Seriously, who raised you? Oh, right... that was me."

 

He didn't even know if the android was capable of feeling anything at all. RK900 walked out of the CyberLife labs after the revolution and still referred to himself as a machine even though he technically should've been a deviant.

Gavin could bet he was the only fucking _non_ -deviant in Detroit. Prick. Idiot. Tin man.

 

He wouldn't even be thinking about him if he wasn’t as thirsty for emotional closeness and stability as he was at the moment.

Blankets and pillows didn't make up for someone hugging you and telling you that _it's alright_ , that

_you were so good_. He hated it.

He hated that even a cold, stiff android hug would be enough for him right now.

 

"Well,” Gavin murmured to himself after taking a look into the fridge. "...at least I have ice cream."

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on twitter, where I tweet and retweet a lot of bullshit and occasionally make art:  
> @CaptnConfusion


End file.
